PocahontUSA
by ayumipants
Summary: In a land where natives run free, England and his eyebrows are off to tame them. That is, until a young native boy tames his heart. It's Pocahontas US/UK style- with Russia. There's so much crack in this story it borders on treason.
1. Native Americans: A History:

A/N: If you couldn't tell, it's about America, if he were Pocahontas. The alternative title to this story is Poke-a-hot-ass, though there will be no on-screen wham-bam-thank-you-England. But fear not! There will be innuendos, song parodies, and offensive material to please all nations! Review or we'll send Grandpa Rome after you.

The songs parodied in this are: The Virginia Company and Steady as the Beating Drum. Load up your playlists and sing along!

We present to you:

**PocahontUSA**

* * *

Communist Incorporated

In sixteen hundred seven  
We sail the open sea  
For Stalin, Marx, and Russia  
Only death will set us free

For the New World is like heaven  
But they're the bourgeoisie  
Proletariat must rise  
For the KGB

For Communism Inc.  
And Russia's tyranny

DENMARK:

Ho! Be that brows? Is he comin' with us? Hither tither!

NORWAY:

Don't talk to me.

FINLAND:

I've heard stories about his eyebrows! I heard they contain some sort of magic...

SWEDEN:

...''

FINLAND:

You're right, dear!

DENMARK:

Can't fight no capitalist pigs without some eyebrows! You coming with us, Iggy of the brows?

NORWAY:

You are a buffoon.

ENGLAND:

Don't call me Iggy! My name is England and I am an absolutely invincible British gentleman! But I also like communism, apparently, in this story.

DENMARK:

Do we have everyone?

NORWAY:

Where is Iceland?

SWEDEN:

''...'

On America's chaste beaches  
The aliens wait for me  
There's vodka rivers flow  
And you'll drink it 'till you pee

And America for Russia  
Canada too, why not?  
And we'll use Mexico for  
Sweatshops and the like  
It's for Communism Inc.  
And Russia's tyranny.

The ship -aptly named Ukraine, after Russia's dear, endowed sister- filled with the hopes and dreams of the Nordic countries and the resigned spirit of the Communists sailed off into the unknown -or America- looking forward to new, exciting, possible sweatshops.

But hark! What death through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and the clouds are a strorm!

"Oh my!" said Finland, trying his hardest to secure the Nordic's bizarre hats in this type of weather. "Oops! I have tumbled over the side of the ship all of a sudden! Save me, hubby!"

Looking stern, Sweden ripped off his shirt, exposing his rippling muscles of manhood. He dove into the swirling, tumbling ocean, and thrust through the wetness, until he reached his mate. Using his Viking powers, he summoned a SEA SERPANT! who lifted them back onto the ship, placing the lovers -wet and spent- upon it's bosom-y, voluptuous deck.

"Wow!" exclaimed Denmark, who was quite obviously drunk. "England! You used your brow-powers (browers), to save Finland! And that stupid Swede. How we are indebted to thee!"

"I am quite invincible!" said England, sipping his tea triumphantly, in the rain. "I didn't even know I did this until you brought it up. I am quite splendid."

And Norway concentrated on drinking himself a little closer to death.

It got a little bit colder, and a little bit gayer, as Governor Russia and his gay slave Latvia strode out upon the deck of the ship.

"Comrades!" said Russia, looking around. He gazed upon the panting, wet, and bothered Finland spread-eagle'd on the ground. "It seems you have been too friendly with the ocean, da? If I'd have known you were getting lonely, I would have invited you in!"

Sweden sent a fiery gaze in Russia's direction, that would have killed a lesser, more human nation, but Russia is covered in a thin layer of permafrost. The gaze only caused him to blink a little. "'''''''" said Sweden, angrily.

"Sweden, don't be rude!" said Finland, elbowing his man's pecs.

"I have much to say to you, comrades!" said Russia, communist-ly.

"Let's go! Communism! YAAAY!" squealed Latvia, in proletariat delight.

"Now," began Russia, a look in his eyes. "We will soon be at the shores of America. It's the final countdown. We are here, to spread the seed -my seed- of Communism over the face of the unsuspecting capitalist, virgin, nation."

"That sounds nice!" said Latvia.

"So have some more vodka, for in the morning, we KILL! Kolkol, this reminds me of my home country. Oh what games my sisters and I used to play!" And with that, Russia walked back into the ship.

"Man, I hope there be bitches abound there," said Denmark, in an attempt to make Norway jealous. It didn't work.

"As long as there aren't any nice young fellows who I take in as a little brother and then a lover," said England. "Because that would be gross."

"I agree," said Finland. And then they joked about things and sailed into the future.

MEANWHILE, back at the pow-wow:

Americans: we like to eat!

Chippewa Chippewa Apache Pue-blo

Hau-de-no-saun-ee

Chippewa Chippewa Apache Pue-blo

Hau-de-no-saun-ee

Working 'till the day is done

Eating snacks just for fun

People go and people come

Into the melting pot of... yum

By the waters sweet and clean

Where the plastic surgeon lives

Fill the boobs and reduce the hips

And put the extra fat in lips

O Germania, sky meat god

Help us roast the hamburgers

Keep the grill burning strong

We would like fries with that

Turkey, bacon, ham, and beef

Americans: we like to eat!

Cow to meat to bun to mouth

(Chippewa Chippewa Apache Pue-blo)

Americans: we like to eat!

Chippewa Chippewa Apache Pue-blo

Hau-de-no-saun-ee

America looked across his land and waterfall, spreading his arms wide like the bird he so admired. If he wished hard enough, perhaps he would become an eagle, and fly into the sky to meet Germania, the sky god of meat.

"America!" whispered a blond voice with glasses and a bear for some reason. Who was also in a canoe. "I don't think you should be up on that rock there, eh."

"Is that you there bro? Bronada? Canabro? CanBROda? I can't hear you. Don't worry! I'll jump down so I can hear you better."

And then America dove -like an eagle would if an eagle were a penguin- into the crystal blue water Canada was floating on. America's beloved nature pets, a French hummingbird named France, and a Spanish raccoon named Spain, followed with eagle-dives of their own.

"Oh my gosh!" Canada squeaked, as America did not resurface immediately. "Are you okay? Are you dead? Maybe they'll finally notice me!"

Canada's hopes were interrupted as America flipped the boat in jest. "Gotcha good, broski!"

Canada fell into the water, wishing he would just drown here. He did not. But his bear did.

"Finally... sweet release..." Kumajiro thought, as he sank to the bottom of the river.

"You need to visit your father, Chief Italy," Canada called from the water, as America was already boat. "He's looking for you!"

"Thanks, brah!"

And with that, America paddled off, leaving his broski mcbro bro to fend for himself in the wild, virgin, waters.

"Kay, bye..." said Canada.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Everything is Cool Here, Brah!

A/N: The songs parodied in this chapter are: Steady as the Beating Drum (Reprise), Just Around the Riverbend, and Listen With Your Heart I. Load up your playlists and party!

* * *

America entered the pow wow with screaming and dancing.

"You need me, pasta-pops?" America said, mid tribal twirl.

"Veee~ Yeah," Italy spaghetti'd, with his eyes closed. "So um, you're getting really... Old. And you're like, way too tall. You remind me of your mom. Who was very holy. And an empire. A holy empire. That was Roman. A Holy Roman Empire, some people called her. Oh! How I miss her so! Veeeeeeee~"

"Wait, pops. Dude, pops. Man. Mom was a bro. Not a chick, pops."

"Well, sometimes I like sauce with my pasta."

"But... but where did I come from?"

"...HE SAID HE'D COME BACK FOR ME! HOLY ROOOMMEEE!" Italy cried out, ravioli tears dripping down his cheeks.

America just stood there, thinking about meat.

"Anyway," Italy tortellini'd. "As you are old enough to be wed, you shall be wed! To Cuba! I picked him up special, just for you, vee! Aren't I the nicest dad ever?"

"No way, fettuccini father! I'm not marrying no Cuban cigar! I gotta stay a virgin to ride the virgin waters! It's some prime surfin' popski."

"Maybe this will change your mind? I found a cape and a hat in your mother's things. This worries me, because if she comes back in a different outfit I wont recognize her. Treat these with respect, America!"

And then Chief Italy placed his dead wife's clothing on America. America looked disdainful.

"BROS DON'T WEAR HATS!" America yelled, as he threw Holy Roman Empire's Holy Hat to the ground, then stepped on it. It shattered, as hats are likely to do when treated recklessly, like his father's heart. "The cape's cool though. Totes doesn't go with my eyes, though. I'm gunna make it rad!"

And then America scurried off, as Italy looked to the sky, and began to sing a song about his dead-wife-man.

Americans! We Like to Eat (Reprise- Sometimes, People Die)

As my son dishonors me

Forgetting who he's supposed to be

My heart feels very empty-ee

Time to eat the spaghetti

When we eat...

We do not cry. Veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~

Meanwhile, back at the river bend, America was singing his own song while decorating his newfound cape. Canada was nearby, jealousy-ing.

"I don't get it! America gets everything he wants and my bear dies! I don't get anything! Oh Cuba, sweet smoky Cuba, if I can't be with you, I can't be with anyone!"

In this time, America had decorated his cape to look like the future American flag. All red, white, and patriotic. Clearly, the authors of this fanfiction (except for that stupid limey) are from this blessed country. NUMBER 1! NUMBER 1!

Then America sang.

Don't Kill Yourself!

What I love most about Cuba is:  
Actually, there's nothing at all  
That Cuba is always eating always smoking.  
But I guess Canada doesn't mind  
He'd gladly pay the dowry price  
But really, who'd choose CanaBRO over me?  
What's around the CanaBRO?  
Is that a noose around the CanaBRO?

Don't kill yourself!  
Let go of your misery!  
I know what's wrong!  
Kumajiro died at sea.  
Don't know what for ...  
Hey there, what's your name again?  
You there by the riverbend?  
That's right, you get down, broski.

I'm glad we fixed this conundrum  
I am going now, kthnxbai  
And I'll ignore that sound of distant sobbing  
'Cuz bros don't mock bros for crying.  
Pops cries often in the night  
And sometimes dreams that mommy might be coming  
Returning from Germania  
I'M PRAYING TO YOU EVERY NIGHT WHY WONT YOU BRING MOM BACK?

Who poked my knee?  
France, it was your beak, my friend!  
Stop touching me!  
Spain put that away!  
Raccoons are gross!  
This song became a tangent.  
Let's all eat some hamburgers!

Should I choose the low-fat meat?  
And stave off heart disease?  
Should I marry Cuba-ah?  
Or give him the Canadian?  
Or should I ask my Grandpa Rome?  
Who's just around the riverbend?

"Hey there Grandpa Willow Rome!" America said, leaping out of his canoe that he was paddling in this entire time, down the river. His animal friends, that Frenchie and the Spaniard, leaped after him sexually.

"Put that flower away, you frog with wings," the native lad suggested to the French hummingnitwit. He did as told. France obeys, he knows how to get laid.

They were in a bog of dreams, where tomato faeries danced, and where the long, willowy hairs of Grandpa Willow Rome's head enclosed them in a hug fit for kings. This was convenient, for America was a prince.

"Should I marry Cuba?" America asked the godly, manly, sexy Willow- who was also his grandpa. "Also, I keep having these dreams about eyebrows. They keep growing... and growing! Oh gosh, so many brows! What does it all mean?"

"I will sing you a song to tell you how I feel!" spoke Grandpa Willow Rome wisely.

Listen With Your Tum I

[Voice of Romano]

Tum tum tum tum  
Tum tum tummy

[Grandpa Rome]

Itali-eh-eh-an  
You will understand

Listen with your tum  
You will understand

Fill it with pasta  
Like a pot upon the stove

Marry Cuba-ah  
That is your dad's plan

[Voice of Romano]

You will understand ...

"I hear it!" America shouted. "But I don't want to marry Cuba. Eff you. Also, the voice of Romano is telling me to look up for the answer of my second question! LET'S GO BROS!"

And America and his bronimal friends scampered up Grandpa Rome's life body. What they saw amazed them.

"Hamburgers! White... hamburgers! Mom... Mom is coming home!"

"No, you buffoon, they're sails!" yelled Grandpa Rome from below.

"Brows, you say?"

"No. Sails."

"Damn."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Look! New Friends!

A/N: The songs featured in this chapter is Mine, Mine, Mine, and Listen with your Heart II, but you really don't need to load up your playlist for the latter one. Also, if you don't know what "borscht" is, you better wikipedia it NOW. Trust us. Also, we apologize in advance. Review and the next song will be better, we swear!

* * *

The great and billowing Ukraine arrived upon the beaches of the new world.

"We're here sir!" gay'd Latvia to Russia. Pug-dog Prussia was bathing like a boss in the corner.

"Good," said Russia. "Now bend over." Latvia liked it.

Up on the deck, the Nordics conversed.

"Well that was quick!" Finland happily exclaimed. "We easily crossed that ocean all lickety-split-like!"

"Yes, I am glad we are here!" said England, interrupting Norway who was about to say something. "I have longed for a wild, virgin land to tame. London is far too 'easy,' I would say. Quite. Rather."

Norway sensed a lull in the conversation. "I was going to say, 'Now that we're here, we should put in a hard days work, and spread communism to everyone,' but you are all sweaty parmesan toads."

At that moment, England kicked the whole side of the boat out, jumped into the sea, sprouted wings and flew to the shore of the new world. "I'm going to find some tarts to shag. I'm not working today! GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!"

"Look at how British he is," Finland said, as they watched England fly into the distance. "I don't think he likes communism very much."

Sweeden nodded. "...''"

"That was very insightful, dear," Finland said.

They then wondered how England had sprouted wings. Denmark thought it was the pills everyone had been taking. That was probably the case.

In reality, Denmark had been the only one taking the pills. The crew had reached the shore hours ago and England just kindly tipped his brow to Finland, said, "I'm off to take a nice stroll, wot wot," and wandered off into the forest. The whole thing had just been a bad trip. When Denmark sobered up, Russia was explaining what they were doing in the new world.

"Everyone knows that the best way to influence a man's political views is through his stomach. You have all heard the rumors... of the magical beetroot cache hidden under the surface of this virgin world. Well, those rumors are true. We will find this beetroot, and we will make the most communist of all foods: borscht. With this equalizer soup, the bourgeoisie of the world will fall!"

Borscht

[Russia]  
The hot soup of Ukraine  
The Lithuanian borscht  
Will pale in comparision  
To the borscht of tomorrow  
The root we find here  
Will BEET them all up  
Do you get it boys? It's a pun!  
Laugh at my humor, boys

Borscht, boys, borscht ev'ry morning  
And beets, boys, beets out your ears  
Grab a spoon, boys  
Quick, boys  
Shove it in your mouth  
Drink it all up  
Communism in a cup  
It's borscht and it's mine, mine, mine

[Nordics]  
Borscht and borscht and borscht and beetroot...  
Borscht and borscht and borscht and beetroot...

[Latvia]  
Hey nonny nonny  
Ho nonny nonny

[Russia]  
What are you singing?

[Latvia]  
Hey nonny nonny  
Ho nonny nonny

[Russia]  
That is so gay!

[Latvia]  
Hey nonny nonny  
Ho nonny nonny

[Latvia]  
I love beets a lot!

[Russia]  
Well good, 'cuz that's all that you'll eat

My rivals back home  
All think that it's bitter  
But oh! How they'll yearn  
When they see my borscht glitter!  
The commies in court  
Will be all a-twitter  
The king will reward me  
He'll overthrow himself and do away with the bourgeoisie.

It's borscht, borscht, borscht  
For the taking  
It's borscht, boys  
Find me those beets!  
With those beetroots dug ...

It's glory they'll gimme  
My dear friend, King Jimmy  
Will probably give us equality  
When all of the borscht is drunk.

[Nordics]  
Borscht and borscht and borscht and beetroot...  
Borscht and borscht and borscht and beetroot...

[England]  
All of my life, I have searched for a land  
Like this one  
A land with culinary prowess  
That's better than mine  
Hundreds of flavors await  
And I don't plan to miss one  
In a land I can eat  
A land I can taste  
The greatest adventure is lunch!

[Russia and Nordics together]

[Russia]  
Keep on working, lads  
Don't be shirking, lads  
Dig, boys, dig  
Find me those beets  
Beautiful borscht

[Nordics]

Find communism!  
All for mother Russia!  
Borscht! Borscht! And beetroot  
Borscht is made from beets!  
Make some soup  
BEETROOT!

[Russia]  
Dig up the beets, boys  
I'd help you to dig, boys  
But I've got a large metal pipe

[England]  
This food we behold ...

[Russia]  
This beauty of borscht ...

[England]  
Flavor can be bold!

[Russia]  
Beets are persuasive!

[Russia and Nordics together]

[Russia]  
And communism  
Is ...  
Borscht!  
Borscht!  
Borscht!  
Borscht!

[Nordics]  
So drink up some borscht  
Communism is here  
Swallow your fear  
From this minute  
This borscht, what is in it?  
BEETS!

[Russia]  
Borscht! and Borscht! and Beetroot!  
Hey nonny nonny nonny BEETROOT!

England strolled along, wishing for a river to wash the dirty communist seed off of his face. And lo! there was a perfect river for face washing in front of him.

"Oh fast land of many pleasures, you sure know how to treat a man well!" Iggy of the Brows bellowed from the depths of his soul. He shoved his face into the river and motorboated it until it came... off his face. You know, the communism... that was on his face. Taking his heaving head out of the river, he saw the reflection of what might have been a blonde man with glasses behind him. Sneakily, he turned, and rubbed his gun in preperation for what was to come.

America hid behind the trees, frightened. He had never seen so much eyebrow in his whole life! Could this be what the dreams were telling him? When looked again, brows was gone!

"Where be brows? WHERE ARE YOU BROSKI BROWS?" screamed America, jumping into the river and flailing wildly. This scared England greatly, who proceeded to light his old-timey gun and aim at the burger master.

He jumped out of his non-discript hiding place, ready to fire. But something stopped him. There, upon the rock, stood the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He was unsure if he wanted to take him in as a brother... or a lover. Possibly both. The American flag cape flapped ominously in the breeze, as America stood in the river, smiling stupidly.

"You have lots of eyebrows," America America'd. This was his form of flirting.

"Can you speak English?" asked England, lowering his gun.

"No, I only speak American," sighed America, dissapointed.

"How can we ever understand each other?" cried England.

Listen With Your Tum II

[Voice of Romano]

You are really dumb. Can't you understand?

"If I listen with my tum.." thought America, out loud.

"What?"

"Hey broski bro, my name is America! What be your name? I bet it's as pretty as you!"

"D'AWWWWWW."

THE END OF THE CHAPTER.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. Oh, Blankets! For us?

A/N: Today, we expect praise lavished upon us, instead of the usual stones we get (we get no stones). Our intern wrote this chapter all by himself, because we have one of those! Totally. Totes McGotes. The song featured in this chapter is "Colors of the Wind." We hope you like lots of innuendo! (You do).

* * *

England gazed at his new woodland friend lovingly, marvelling at his inability to grasp the basics of the English language.

"This..." said England, patiently. "is a helmet. Say, 'helmet.'"

"HELMAT."

"No, say it with me... Hel-met."

"HAMBURGER."

"One more time..." said England, getting impatient. "HELMET."

"YES! YOU FOX, LET US BONE."

"That is not how you say helmet."

"Oops," said America, looking down. "My pants are off. Let's go swimming!"

"Ughhghhh," sighed England, looking around at the uncultured wasteland. There wasn't a tea shop in sight. "Hey, America... Are there beet roots here... in this... virgin... land-soil?"

"BRRRHG," said a grizzly bear, who was playing with pantsless America in the river.

"He wasn't talking to you, you gentle beast," cried the Eagle of All That is Good, tapping the bear on the nose. "Be gone with you! Go frolic somewhere else! I shall call upon you when I sing to the heavens!"

America turned to broski brows and wiggled his butt. "So why do you care about this... BEAT ROOHT? Is that right? Is that how you say it?"

"No, you're an idiot. I hate you," said England, hiding his boner behind the helmat. "And we came to this... virgin... soil-land... for beet root. To make borscht, the best soup. Ever. In all the USSR."

"Oh, I know what you mean," cried America, scampering onto the soil. "I'll dig some up for you, you sly devil!"

America shoved his hands into the dirt, and ripped from his loins two plump hamburgers, complete with ketchup _and_ mustard. "These are what you seek! They are the blessed vegetable from Germania: Sky Meat God! Bow before our holy food!"

"You are an ass," said England, hiding his upgraded boner. "That is not what I meant. It looks like... I dunno... The red balls of an ox."

"We don't have those," sighed America. "And I would know, I am very familiar with red oxen balls."

"Herp derp," said France, who has been here the whole time, buzzing about their heads- as hummingbirds are oft to do.

"What an unfortunate thing to say," said England. "Perhaps we will return to the home country sooner than anticipated, we cannot dine on your barbarian foods. How can savages like you learn to respect Communism?" England turned to leave.

"We're not so different, you and I!"

"Shut up I'm leaving."

"WAIT! Please stay for my song!"

"What. What song? You're still half naked. And it's the good half... I mean, the indecent half that is exposed to the elements."

Less Discriminatory Views

You think I'm an ignorant virgin

And you've had so many people

I guess it must be so

But still I cannot see

If the virgin one is me

How can there be so much that you don't know?

You don't know ...

You think you own whatever man you land on

My ass is just a plump thing you can claim

But I know every whip and chain and fetish

Has a life, has a spirit, to be tamed

You think the only people who are people

Are the people who like to bone like you

But if you wake in the bedroom of a stranger

You'll learn things you never knew you never knew

Have you ever heard the Canada cry out randomly?

Or taught the silly Frenchman how to yearn?

Can you sing with all the voices of Romano?

Can you bone with less discriminatory views?

Can you bone with less discriminatory views?

Come run the hidden pine trails of my body

Come taste the sunsweet berries of my crotch

Come roll in all the sheets that surround you

And for once, never worry about those stains

The strap-on and the ball gag are my brothers

The condom and the handcuff are my friends

And we are all tied up to the bedpost

By Belarus, by Belarus, by Belarus

How far will the Canada go?

If you never ask, then you'll never know

And you'll never hear the Canada cry out in the dark

For whether we English or AMERICA

We need to sing with all the voices of Romano

We need to bone with less discriminatory views

You can bone the butt and still

All you'll bone is butt until

You can bone with less discriminatory views

"... How did you know I wanted to sleep with you?" asked England.

America began singing again. "I can sing with all the voices of Romano."

"... What? That doesn't make sense."

"Shut up and kiss me, you shiny banana tortoise."

Wham-bam-thankyou-England!

* * *

MEANWHILE, back at the pow-wow:

"Hey guys," said Cuba, through his cigar. "I think we should check out those new white people. Mayhaps they have some good ice cream/cigars/ladies."

"Huhhh?" said Canada, sounding rather heartbroken. "L-l-ladies?"

"Hahaha, we'll find one for you, dear Canada. Fear not!" Cuba said, with a hearty laugh, patting him on the back.

Canada wept.

Then they went to check out the white people. One was tall and angry, one was short and stout, and one was just right. Actually, there were a lot of white people, and it was a terrible time for everyone.

"Hey," said Finland, the "just right" one. "Are there people in the bushes? That looks like a man!"

"'''''" said Sweeden, the tall one.

"Meeehh, I'm scared!" said Latvia, the short one.

"...Freeze them," said Russia, the one-who-shall-not-be-named, as he blew into the bushes, freezing all but the cigar in Cuba's mouth. Russia's communist laugh filled the forest air, and the furry forest furries were filled with fear, for they knew the end would soon be upon them.

After an hour or two, Latvia's flaming homosexuality melted the native people, and they retreated to the safety of their village, carrying one of the wounded: Egypt.

"How did I get here? Who are you? Am I in the right continent?" asked Egypt.

"Hush now," said Greece-cat. "Save your strength."


	5. AHHHHH SMALLPOX!

A/N: Sorry this took so long, we were off fightin' crime in Uganda! That's no Hetalia country, bitches! That's real life! How many babies you think we save? I'll give you an estimate: 1,000 babies, and a dog!

* * *

Egypt was thrown in front of the wise and old Japan- the village wisdom-healer.

"Herro," said Japan, looking up from his rice bowl.

"Hello, can you heal our friend?" asked Cuba.

"Can't you see I'm busy? Eating rice... and watching anime?"

"We can pay you!"

"In cats! Everybody likes cats!" said Greece. "I have a cat, and you have a cat, we all have kitty cats! We're a kitty cat club! Meow!"

Reluctantly, Japan began his mystic dance of parapara which roughly translates to "The Healing of the Egyptian, Part the First." Unfortunately, he should have jumped to Part the Second, for Egypt perished, right there, upon the table. T'was very sad, and there was much grinding and gnashing of teeth.

"Anyway," began Japan. "Did you kirr Egypt? Cuba? Because, if you did, it's my responsibirity to terr the chief. I don't think he'rr ret you marry his daughter... Son. Chird."

"T'WAS THE WHITE MAN!" yelled Cuba, thrusting his cigar into the air. "The damn northern continents! They killed him! They killed my friend!"

"We shourd retariate," said Japan.

"I will tell the chief to begin... war," said Cuba dramatically.

* * *

Somewhere, at a place that could possibly be named Lover's Lake:

"I really liked having sex with you," said America.

"America!" said England in a reproachful tone. "This is not the sort of thing you discuss while washing your knickers."

"I thought it was a good of a time as any!" cried America, as he dipped his freedom tighties into the clear, less-virginal-than-before, waters.

"What a savage you are."

"How can you call me savage, when you do not know the ways of the world? You do not feel it's breath, heartbeat, throbbing manhood..."

"I feel it's throbbing manhood every night, dammit."

"Oh. Ho. You cheeky bastard."

Suddenly, Cuba came crying, screaming, SMOKING from the wilderness behind them.

"What chu be doin' with my lady-man... partner!"

"Shut up you swine! He is mine now!" cried England. "Don't touch his fine, free, asshole."

"TOO LATE," said Cuba, as he swung at England.

"You asspiece! Do not bring his honor into question!" cried England, as the punch hit his face. "Ugh, you almost knocked my eyebrows clean off!"

"I was doing you a favor, bitch."

Meanwhile, America files his nails from the shore. "No. Stop. Guys. Really. I love you both. In different ways. Sigh."

But no one saw Finland approach from behind the shrubbery. He cocked his gun. He raised it to eye-level. He looked left, right, and then crossed the street.

He shot Cuba in the head.

All was silent for a moment, when a scream shattered the silence to the right. It was Canada! And he was crying out from a broken heart.

"Not you! Not you my caramel colored polar bear!"

"oh nooo he's dead" said America, using no proper punctuation.

"Was that you? Flying Mint Bunny? Did you come to rescue me?" asked England.

"It was me!" said Finland!

"You whore of a mother!" cried England. "Do you know not what you've done? You've killed the mother of my child!"

"Really?"

"No. But that was sort of a dick move, so I'll take the fall for you."

"Is it because we're bros?" asked Finland hopefully.

"No, it's because once a year, you spread joy to all children across the world. We all know which day I'm talking about."

"Oh... Okay," said Finland, as he went on his merry way.

"But England! You cannot do this! They will kill you! And we just had the best sex I ever had! How will I go on without you?" cried America.

"Fear not, my red skinned Romeo," suave'd England. "I will be with you. Always. Always in your heart."

"I want you in my bed! Not in my heart!"

But then, it's super awkward because suddenly, Italy is there! And he heard the whole thing!

"Ewwww!" said Italy. "You like a booooooyyy! Boys are gross! I can see why you brought me here Japan!"

"Uh, no sir. Cuba was just kirred."

"Ewwww boooyysss! Let's bring him back to the pow-wow and chain him up! And, hit him with a fork or something. Until he dies. And no pasta for him! NO PASTA FOR ICKY BOYS!"

"But spaghetti-daddy!" cried America. "We're in love!"

"So no pasta for you either! Now you have to marry Japan."

"Do you rike video games?" asked Japan.

"Yeah, I guess I'm okay with- WAIT but broski-brows, you're the only man for me!"

Then America grabbed his shivering friend from the ground. "Here! Take Canada! Kill him instead!"

"Yes. Kill me. I want to die. My bear is dead, my love is dead, I am dead already."

But England was already being dragged off. It was too late for him. And America knew, he should just settle down and become one with Japan. But then, he heard a calling in the wind. A voice? Romano's voice?

"Go and talk to Grandpa Willow Rome, assfucker."

"Okay!" said America to no one.

And he ran. He ran as fast as his freedom footsies could carry him. Which was pretty fast, because what can't freedom do?

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...


	6. Not Cool, Bro Really Not Cool

A/N: The song included in this chapter is "Savages," so load up your iHops and sing-a-long! Haha, get it? Ipod? Ihop? Haha, we're funny in Uganda.

* * *

"Oh my gosh, everyone!" cried Finland to his Nordic friends (and Russia [and Latvia]). "England was captured by those capitalist pigs!"

"Not the capitalists..." said Russia, in a soothing manner. "You know what we have to do?"

"Gang bang them?" asked Denmark.

"Give them makeovers?" asked Latvia.

"'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''pumpkin''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''?" asked Sweden.

The rest of the Communist party stared at Sweden in shock. "Even I wouldn't go that far," said Russia. "But I like where you're coming from. Let's go kill 'em."

"Can we sing about it?" asked Latvia.

"Just this once," said Russia.

Capitalists! Communists!

-Part 1-  
[Russia]  
What can you expect  
From money grubbing fat cats?  
Their governmental system doesn't work  
Their money's greedy green  
Understand what I mean?  
They're pigs from what I've seen  
And worse

[Nordics]  
They're capitalists! Capitalists!

[Russia]  
Barely even human

[Nordics]  
Capitalists! Capitalists!

[Russia]  
The blond one is a whore!  
He did not sleep with me  
Which means he must be evil  
And he converses with a tree!

[Russia+Nordics]  
They're capitalists!Capitalists!  
Money grubbing fat cats!  
Now we eat the beets of war!

[Italy]  
This is what we feared  
The browface is a boy!  
The only thing he feels at all is lust

[Japan]

This isn't about that  
They all wear funny hats

[Capitalists]  
I wonder if they can even read

[Capitalists]  
They're communists! Communists!  
Barely even human  
Communists! Communists!

[Italy]  
They only eat beets

[Japan]  
Who onry eats beets?  
This means they can't be trusted

[Italy]  
We should cook a pot of war

[Capitalists]  
They're communists! Communists!  
First we wax his eyebrows  
Then he shall be beautiful

[Nordics]  
Capitalists! Capitalists!

[Sweden]  
''''''''''pumpkin!

[Capitalists]  
Communists! Communists!

[Russia]  
Now it's up to you, men!

[All]  
Capitalists! Communists!  
Which one is the right one!  
Now we eat the feast of war!

Meanwhile, in the Forest of Pleasures(tm):

America sat on Grandpa Willow Rome's woody lap. "I just don't know, gramps," sighed America. "What am I going to do? I mean, I could probably be happy playing video games with Japan forever, but that England sure knows how to bone. And I have needs. Manly needs."

"I don't think you should be sharing this with me, son," said Grandpa Willow Rome.

"I ain't ashamed. I love who I love and hate who I hate."

"Thats nice. You should... I don't know, listen to your heart or something. Your animal bros have a present for you, by the way!"

"Is it a burger?"

"No it's a chair!" cried Spain, France, and Prussia in their various animal voices.

"A burger chair!"

"No, it's Busby's Chair," said Grandpa Willow Rome. "Sit in it, and it will lead you to where your heart desires."

"Thanks gramps! And you bad-touching animal friends!" America yelled from his seat upon the chair of destiny. As he smothered his rump further inside the chair, it blasted off at the speed of love, and carried him off into the sunset... America was so overcome with joy he began to sing with the fighting parties.

-Part 2-  
[America]  
Hey you guys please look up here!  
I'm riding in a flying chair!  
Who's that standing by a cliff?  
Whatcha doin' CanaBRO?

[Russia]  
This will be the day ...  
(Let's go guys!)

[Italy]  
We'll have breakfast in the morning!  
(Bring out the pasta!)

[ERYBODY]  
We will set the table, look at us!

[Canada]  
I don't know what I can do  
After all that I've been through

[Nordics]  
Kill the Capitalists

[America]  
Freedom, help this chair to fly

[Capitalists]  
Now without a warning ...

[Canada]

Quick! Jump now before they see!

[ERYBODY]  
First we fight, next kill, then eat a lot

[America]  
Whad'm I doin' I forgot

[ERYBODY]  
It's them or us

[America]  
England what you doin' there?

[ERYBODY]  
They're just a bunch of  
Filthy, stinking

[Nordics]  
Capitalists!

[Capitalists]  
Communists!

[Nordics]  
Fat cats!

[Capitalists]  
Russians!

[Russia]  
Kill them!

[Capitalists]  
Communists!

[Nordics]  
Capitalists!

[Russia+Nordics]  
What are we waiting for?

[ERYBODY]  
Destroy their government  
Until there's not a trace left

[America]  
Don't worry brows, I'll save you!

[ERYBODY]  
We will eat the food of war!  
(Capitalists! Communists!)  
Now, we eat the feast of war  
(Capitalists! Communists!)

[Russia]  
Now we see what comes  
Of trying to be chums

[Capitalists]  
Now we cook a pot ... of ... war!

[Nordics]  
Of course it means the beets ... of ... war!

[America]  
What happened to CanaBRO?  
Whatever, I like England more.

And then Busby's Chair falls from the sky like a big ball of freedom from heaven.

"STOP!" said America. "In the name of love, before you bbreeeeaaakkk my heart!"

"Oh stop singing, you ninny," sighed England, who was about to be bludgeoned by Italy on a rock. "Just let me die."

"C'mon Parmesan-Papa!" said America, making no move to protect England. "Don't be like this. It's because mom is dead, isn't it? That's why you're acting like this."

"How did you know?" said Italy, tearing.

"Oh Fettuccine-Father, you cannot hide your feelings from me! The eagle of love sees all in it's path! Besides, I found someone for you!" said America, looking behind his shoulder.

"Gutentag, mein bratwurst baby," said Germany, appearing out of the mist.

"Gasp! Holy Roman Empire!" cried Italy, seeing the blonde, muscular, meaty form of Germany. "But how? How?"

"I couldn't keep it from you any longer, my sauerkraut sex god."

"Linguine lover! Why did you leave me?"

"Because I am, an icky boy... The kind that you hate so much, my spätzle sweetheart."

"I've always known. But how could I ever think you were an icky boy when you are my marinara marshmallow?"

"Your words have made me so happy, oh, my pfannkuchen pumpkin!"

"'''''''''''''"pumpkin'''''''''!" said Sweden.

"Yes, dear. I know," sighed Finland.

Then Italy and Germany wandered off and the war was cancelled. America picked up England from off the ground.

"You alright, hamburger hottie?"

"No. We are not doing that stupid food nickname thing."

"Anything you say, donut dreamboat!"

And then they flew off into the sky, and the war was cancelled!

Unfortunately, while this fanfiction may depict works of comedy, the actual relationship between the Native Americans and the Settlers are much less humorous. There were many deaths in both parties, and the Native Americans eventually succumbed to diseases, gunpowder, and Andrew Jackson. That guy was a dick and we're not proud of it. To learn more about the settling of America, go to your local wikipedia page, and type in "Trail of Tears." What you learn will astound and horrify you. Family fun for every-one. Thank you for reading.

THE END

* * *

A/N: The epilogue will be coming shortly, and will be called, "A Nice Chapter for Canada."


	7. CASINOS!

A Nice Chapter for Canada

Canada awoke in a room of heavenly light. "Cuba? Are you there?"

"I'm here, my cigar sweetie," said Cuba. "I waited for you. I've always loved you Canada."

"Oh, I'm so happy!" sighed Canada. "Is Kumajiro here too?"

"Yeah..." said Kumajiro reluctantly. "You aren't so bad, Canada. We had some good times."

"You remembered my name!"

"I always knew it, I just didn't want you to know how much I liked you."

"I'm so glad we can all be here forever!" sighed Canada, holding them both close and pecking Cuba on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, tortilla toots, but it isn't your time," said Cuba, shaking his head sadly.

"What?" said Canada, heartbroken. "I can't go back down there! They all hate me!"

"It's okay, Canada. I promise you you'll find someone who loves you very much. And you'll love him too. Even more than me or Kumajiro."

"That's not possible!"

"Oh my sweet naive love muffin," smiled Cuba. "I want you to move on. I want you to be happy. And we'll always be up here waiting for you. It will all be alright. But you have to go back now..."

With that Cuba gave him a soft kiss and said, "Hush now, my sweet little pancake. It's time for you to say goodbye."

"Goodbye," said Canada, as he held his bear and his man close to him for the last time in a long time. The light began to fade, and Canada opened his eyes, a single tear falling down his cheek. He was in the arms of a small, but tender, Latvian.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're alright," Latvia gushed. "It would be a sad day if a beautiful creature such as you were to die this day. Why ever did you do that to yourself?"

"I was sad," said Canada, as his mouth finally learned how to smile. "But not anymore."

THE END

* * *

A/N: Dear readers, we hoped you enjoyed our walk through history and D*sney movie parodies. As we only have a few one-shots in the works, we open the floor for full-length D*sney movie parody requests. Please list the film and the pairing you would like us to write. But don't request any of the dumb ones. Like Dumbo. We wont do Dumbo. Or Bambi.

Also if you make fanart of PocahontUSA we will write you a paragraph with your selected pairing in the style of Germania Mania! Now doesn't that sound cool (we love fanart. Just like you!).


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